


The First Annual Belleville, New Jersey Harvest Festival

by runandgo



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Local Government, Bickering, Coworkers to lovers, M/M, Mild sickfic, Parks & Recreation AU, Plot-Convenient Fireworks, very loosely but it very much still is a parks and rec au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27317746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runandgo/pseuds/runandgo
Summary: When Ray and Frank had gotten to Belleville a few weeks before, they’d laid out the situation in no uncertain terms: the city government was broke. Extremely broke. On-the-verge-of-bankruptcy broke. Which meant that all of the programs Gerard had worked so hard to implement in his years working his way excruciatingly slow through the ranks of the Belleville Parks and Recreation Department — free art clinics and music classes for at-risk kids, bike exchanges with the Department of Transportation, all the things closest to his heart — had to stop immediately.A very loose Parks & Rec AU. Written for My Trick-or-Treat Romance 2020, with the "Treat" prompt "corn maze!"
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 34
Kudos: 64
Collections: My Trick or Treat Romance





	The First Annual Belleville, New Jersey Harvest Festival

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first time ever participating in a fic challenge, but when i saw it on my tl, i knew i had to give it a try. big big thank you to liz for organizing it! ^___^
> 
> i picked treat because i have enough tricks on my hands with other wips, and my prompt was “corn maze” so i immediately thought of the parks and rec harvest festival storyline, and then i thought that could make a really cute au, ergo...
> 
> while some character parallels are inevitable (gerard is the leslie in this scenario, mikey is the april, frank is the ben, ray is the chris, etc.), it’s not intended to be a direct analogy at all and most of the characters don’t line up. it was just the plot inspiration :) i don't actually know anything about local government auditing and i am NOT going to rewatch parks and rec on fucking peacock or whatever, so please do not @ me if this inaccurately depicts small government lmao. also i promise that i know new jersey is not full of farmland, i just don't know where else i would set this lol
> 
> please don’t put this anywhere that anyone mentioned in it might see it, tyvm!
> 
> hope you enjoy ^___^  
> 

**Two and a half months to the Harvest Festival**

* * *

“And you’re sure Pete’s band can play.”

Mikey rolled his eyes and turned off the car, the sound of the engine dying out. “Yeah, Gee, I asked him like five times. He’s all in. I think if I told him now that he couldn’t, he’d cry.” 

“Well, don‘t fuckin’ tell him that,” Gerard said hurriedly, and pushed a hand through his hair. “We kind of need them. And if they sign up, well, you know how Pete is, hopefully he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut and then we’ll be able to get even more bands.” Blowing out a breath of air, he unbuckled his seatbelt and slid a little lower in the seat, grabbing for his messenger bag. When he located it, he pulled it out and flipped open the binder within it, covered in sticky notes and pull-tabs and doodles and bursting at the seams. “When are Ray and Frank coming again?” 

“Ten,” Mikey said. 

The clock on the dashboard said it was 8:23; that gave Gerard plenty of time to walk around and partition off the area where the rides would be set up. He liked to look like he’d at least gotten something done before Ray and Frank got to the site. If they didn’t already get how much he cared about this town from how he’d argued with them at first, then fuck, he’d show them every day. 

Late July was nowhere near fall in New Jersey, despite the fact that Gerard had been mentally living in October for the past few weeks through all the planning sessions. Even though it was early, the sun was already beating down. Gerard laid his blazer over the hood of the car as he got out, squinting into the bright light. The site was in poor shape right now, just a dusty old field with a cornfield behind it; thankfully, the farmer who owned it had worked with Gerard on some permit or another and was more than happy to lend it to become a corn maze for a much lower price than it normally would have cost. They needed to save money every chance they could. And everything had to be perfect. 

When Ray and Frank had gotten to Belleville a few weeks before, they’d laid out the situation in no uncertain terms: the city government was broke. Extremely broke. On-the-verge-of-bankruptcy broke. Which meant that all of the programs Gerard had worked so hard to implement in his years working his way excruciatingly slow through the ranks of the Belleville Parks and Recreation Department — free art clinics and music classes for at-risk kids, bike exchanges with the Department of Transportation, all the things closest to his heart — had to stop immediately. 

_Yeah, the thing is,_ Frank had told them, _you kinda have to make money to do stuff like this, especially when the rest of your government isn’t pulling the weight it should._ Gerard had _tried_ to fix the problem from the other end, they really had; he’d sat in on so many city council meetings that they started to roll their eyes whenever they saw his face, and he was pretty sure that the mayor’s office had started directing his emails right to spam. But he was not about to give up on the programs, on making an actual fucking _difference_ to people, just because it was hard. It was the right thing to do, and he’d see it through to the end. 

One night after Frank and Ray had left, they were all kind of moping around the office. Even Hayley’s bright blue hair seemed dulled under the dim fluorescent lights. Gerard had gathered them all around a table, looking at the familiar faces, the people who made up his life, who he trusted and believed in and wanted to see succeed. They ordered pizza, and then more pizza, and stayed up leafing through old scrapbooks and shooting the shit until someone, please, God, _someone_ , had an idea. 

It came in the form of Brian’s mom, funnily enough, who had called him while he was on a smoke break. He’d told her about what they were trying to do, and she’d reminisced about the Harvest Festivals the town used to have back when she was a kid. Gerard had fervently vowed to buy her flowers and he intended to fulfill that promise, because so far, it was kind of their only hope. At times, he wasn’t even sure it could work, but one by one, people had stepped up. Mikey had volunteered to coordinate a stage with local bands. Hayley had said something about an animal rescue that partnered with area farms bringing in some animals for petting zoos. Brian offered to sweet-talk some local business owners into signing up to have stands, even before they’d secured a venue yet, which gave them just enough money to get things off the ground. 

And now here Gerard was, looking out at the empty patch of land that held the future of the town. It was a little nerve-wracking. A lot, actually. 

Mikey shut the door and walked around the other side of the car to stand next to Gerard. Wordlessly, he offered him a cigarette from the carton in his pocket 

Gerard lit it and smoked frantically for about a minute. He exhaled and breathed in clearer, less clouded. “Thanks, Mikes.” 

“‘Course,” Mikey shrugged. “Wanna get started?” 

One more drag of the cigarette, then Gerard stubbed it out and dropped the end into the car’s ashtray through the open window. He took another deep breath. “Yeah,” he said, then opened the binder to the first page. 

They’d both been working for about an hour, pacing around the site, marking areas off with chalk or flags, when another car rumbled into the parking lot. Its doors flew open and Hayley tumbled out of the drivers’ seat, closely followed by Brian out of the back, helping Gabe carry the poster board Gerard had stayed up making last night. 

“Hey,” Gerard called, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. It really was fucking hot out here; he’d rolled his sleeves up almost immediately and his tie was going to go next. “Everything okay back there?” 

“Same old, same old.” Hayley snapped her gum and unfolded the tripod. “Is this all right to put the poster?” When Gerard nodded, she planted it in the ground, then squinted out over the field towards the horizon, shading her eyes with her hand. “I still don’t get why we had to do this here instead of in the office.” 

“It’s about visualization,” Gerard said, trying not to sound too pretentious. “Planting the idea in their brains. Making them think about what could be.” 

“I think a lot better in air conditioning,” Hayley said, and shrugged. “Whatever. You’re the boss, I guess.” 

“Speaking of…” Gerard tilted their head to the side. “Can you help Mikey finish putting the last set of flags out? I wanna go over the presentation with Brian.” 

She saluted at him, a flash of teal visible from under her hat as she turned on her heel and walked over towards the field. 

As soon as she was out of earshot, Gerard turned to Brian, who was squinting at him in the quickly-rising sun. “Is this crazy?” 

“Dude, I don’t know. Most of your ideas are crazy. I kinda lost my ability to judge this kind of shit when you started working here.” Shading his eyes with his hand, Brian frowned. “You never usually ask. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m — I’m fine, I just —” Gerard scrubbed his hand over the bottom of his face. “This is fuckin’ important. Probably the most important thing I’ve ever had to do for this place.” 

Brian nodded slowly. “Yeah.” After a beat, he continued: “Then this is what you’ve been waiting for, right? All that other stuff you’ve done has been, like, practice.” 

A sudden, fierce fondness for Brian overwhelmed Gerard for a second. “Thanks,” he said. 

Brian shrugged and tried to keep any expression that conveyed warm emotion off of his face, but failed miserably. “Makes my job easier.” 

They worked more or less in silence for the next twenty minutes, Gabe walking around the site with his phone taking pictures of how everything looked for some (hopefully good) before-and-after comparisons, Hayley and Mikey marking off the last of the areas within walking distance, and Gerard and Brian running through the presentation one last time. When the sensible silver sedan that Gerard knew by now belonged to Ray pulled up, he was as prepared as he could humanly be, even though he was definitely sweating through his shirt. 

“Hey, Gerard!” Ray called as he got out of the driver’s side, smiling. On the other side, Frank stood up, stretching, the collar of his shirt riding down a little bit and exposing the tattoos on his neck. Gerard had no idea how he’d managed to get the job he had with as many tattoos as he had to have — on both his hands and his neck, he must have been covered under all of his clothes too. 

Despite this initially giving Gerard an indicator that Frank might be, well, not exactly the stereotype of a government auditor, he had actually turned out to be a lot more serious than Ray. Gerard had seen Frank crack a smile maybe fifteen times since they’d met, and like seven of those were when he’d seen him talking on the phone in the courtyard during lunch one day. And that was fine! It really was. Because it seemed like he still wanted to help them actually keep Belleville running. 

But also. Frank had a nice smile. Gerard wouldn’t mind seeing more of it. 

While he was lost in his thoughts, Ray and Frank had ambled over and were currently standing with Brian, talking quietly. Frank took out a carton of cigarettes and pulled one out, reaching in his pocket for a lighter, then making a face. “Hey,” he said, taking a few steps towards Gerard. “You got a lighter?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard said, rummaging around in their pocket until he produced it, then handing it over. 

“Hope you don’t mind if I smoke,” Frank said. The cigarette wagged up and down between his lips as he talked, before he clamped them shut and lit it up. 

“No, as long as you don’t litter.” 

“God, what the fuck kind of person do you take me for?” Frank shook his head, blowing out of the side of his mouth, away from Gerard. “Listen, I’m already ruining the environment and my own fuckin’ lungs by smoking, the least I can do is not drop the butts everywhere. Fuckin’ hate those people.” 

This was the most words they’d spoken to each other outside of the context of a meeting, when Frank was at the front of the room delivering depressing news and which Gerard mostly spent shredding paper under the table out of anxiety. It shouldn’t have been surprising that he was a nice guy, but Gerard was still a little taken aback to find himself grinning through his sunglasses at Frank. “The amount of anti-litter campaigns I’ve run in my life, dude, trust me, I know that feeling.” 

The corner of Frank’s mouth quirked up as he inhaled again. “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing this presentation.” 

“You don’t have to say that,” Gerard said, wrinkling his nose. He knew that most people didn’t really care all that much; for God’s sake, Ray had said earlier that he and Frank had been to three cities before Belleville this year alone. This was just another stop for them, and to Gerard, it didn’t seem like much use pretending otherwise — at least, not yet. The presentation was supposed to be what changed their minds. 

“No! No, I’m serious, dude.” Frank laughed a little. It was a nice laugh, almost giggly, definitely not what Gerard would have expected. But then again before today, he hadn’t really thought much about that idea in the first place. “Honestly, this is way more effort than like, ninety percent of people put in, even if they’re in _way_ worse shape than you guys are.” 

“Well, I hope it pays off, I guess.” 

Before Gerard could say anything else, Hayley called his name. When he turned and caught her eye, she tapped her watch and tilted her head towards the poster boards, all set up just as he’d asked. 

“That time, huh?” Frank said, shoving a hand deep in his pocket. “Go ahead, I’ll be over in a sec.” 

“Okay,” Gerard said, and for some reason felt weirdly shy, as he walked back to the rest of the group. He’d known Frank for a while now but this was the first time they’d met, really, even though they’d been seeing each other for the better part of two months. Gerard didn’t always do well with new people, even though Mikey always wanted him to meet them, but this was different. He hadn’t felt any of the usual awkward conversational bumping up against one another that he usually had to cringe his way through, and the laughing felt genuine instead of forced by politeness. 

It just wasn’t usual that people could get to him so easily. 

But thank God, he didn’t really have time to think about that right now. Instead, he wadded up the thought like the Motorhead t-shirt he’d worn for weeks on end in college and stuffed it in the corner of his mind’s laundry bag; he’d deal with it later, or maybe, if he was lucky, forget about it entirely. For now, they had something tangible in front of him that they could focus on, something they’d made, planned with their team, something to work towards. 

Even though fixing the budget seemed like an insurmountable task sometimes the way Frank talked about it, as he flipped through his plans, explaining everything they’d worked up over the past few weeks, Gerard felt that familiar excitement in the pit of his chest, almost stretching his ribcage with hope and determination. The drawings on the poster board that he’d made — kids riding roller coasters, crafts on display, couples sharing candy apples — were just quick sketches of different areas of the festival that they’d planned, but they felt almost like sigils, as if by putting them to paper, he was committing to making them happen. It wasn’t just about finding any old way to get money, it was about finding the right way, “and I believe we’ve done that with the idea of bringing back the Harvest Festival this fall,” he finished. 

From behind Frank and Ray, Hayley and Gabe burst into applause, and even though he waved a hand to get them to stop, Gerard felt a fierce rush of affection towards them, and couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Frank raised his eyebrows and nodded, biting his lip around half a grin, and Ray clapped along as well. “Gerard, that was awesome,” he said enthusiastically. “Did you draw those?” 

“Thanks,” Gerard said, glancing over his shoulder at the posters. “Um, yeah, I did.” 

Ray whistled and shook his head. “You’re really talented. And, I mean, clearly you know what you’re doing.” 

“You think it’ll work?” Brian said, letting his hand fall from where he’d been fidgeting with his necklace, rubbing it like a worry charm. 

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s a great idea, right, Frankie?” 

Frank nodded in agreement and unfolded his arms. “Yeah. Probably your best bet. You know, it’ll get you guys a nice influx of money from the start, but if you can pull it off, it’ll also get attention. Like a walking three-day advertisement for the Parks Department.” 

“Exactly!” Gabe crowed. “The social media for this is gonna be _perfect,_ dude. Animals, pumpkins, little kids getting face-painted, we’re gonna have ammunition for months.” 

“Don’t refer to the citizens as ammunition for social media, Gabe, we’ve been over this,” Brian said in a flat tone. 

Gabe continued talking in the background, trying to get Mikey’s attention, but Gerard stopped listening, instead turning to Ray and Frank. “So do we have the go-ahead?” he asked. The sudden fear that they might say no became extremely apparent, and his heart leapt into his throat, beating hard enough to make it feel like he couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. 

“Oh, you don’t need us to approve this for you,” Ray said. “That’s really up to your local government, you know? But in my professional opinion, I think it’s a great idea.” 

“Mine too,” Frank said. “Even though I’m pretty sure Ray’s opinion is way more professional than mine.” 

More cheering from the back, and even Brian cracked a smile and clapped a few times. “That’s really such a relief to hear,” Gerard said fervently. Most of the tight anxiety that had sprung up drained away in a second, down through his veins and out like it was being absorbed by the soil. In the next few hours, as they began working for real, actually tackling all of the problems they hypothetically knew would arise, he was sure it would come back. But for a brief few moments he would let himself be proud before he started to push himself to the next finish line. 

He took a deep breath and let it out. “What are we waiting for, then?” 

* * *

**One month to the Harvest Festival**

* * *

Honestly, Gerard had no idea how he’d managed to drive over here.

If anyone had asked them, they would have vehemently denied being sick. The shaking hands were just nerves, his too-bright eyes just excitement. But as he sat behind the wheel of his car and looked at the ridiculous country club he was supposed to be speaking at to try and attract donors, the town’s wealthiest, WASPiest, and oldest residents streaming through its doors, he couldn’t lie to himself. With a sigh, he took out the cold medicine from his pocket and swigged directly from the bottle. This was behavior that would surely get him yelled at by any medical professional — including the doctor that he’d seen — but he didn’t really have much of a choice. 

It was just that Gerard _never_ got sick. They had the flu every year, just like everywhere else in America, but Gerard had always managed to avoid it by washing his hands, staying far away from people who were sick, and getting his flu shot, even though he fucking hated needles. He’d expected Ray and Frank to get it, and they sure had; it hit them hard and laid Ray in bed for three days and Frank for a full week. Hayley had a mild case of it, Brian took a few days off to recover, Gabe was just out for two, and Mikey had evaded it entirely, which had lulled Gerard into a false sense of security. 

Figured that the first time he actually gets it bad would be one of the most important nights leading up to what was _definitely_ the most important project of his career. Really, not just his career, either, but the town as a whole. 

Having someone else do the presentation wasn’t really an option. Gerard knew all these people, and while he can’t say he liked all of them, he still was aware that this particular crowd was much more likely to respond positively to a 30-something-year-old in a suit and tie than an intern with blue hair, say, or an even older man wearing bright purple. (They all _knew_ that Gabe owned normal professional clothing, but so far he’d refused to wear it to events, and Gerard and Brian had eventually given up.) All this to say that he was going to have to give this speech one way or another. Though he’d practiced pretty incessantly, to the point of even Hayley closing her hoodie strings around her face when she saw Gerard gearing up for another run-through in their office, this cold medication was pretty fucking powerful. And even with the trouble he’d had reading the thermometer before he left the house, he knew there were definitely three digits on it. Narrowing his eyes to try and focus the light, Gerard blinked and moved a hand in front of his face, watching as it faded back and forth like in slow-motion. 

That probably wasn’t good. 

Well, he knew for sure it wasn’t, actually, but it wasn’t like he could do much about it, so he just gathered up his papers and got out of the car anyway, taking a second to brace himself against the side when his head started spinning. He got to the door mostly okay, and Frank was waiting for him outside, hands in his pockets, tie perfectly done up. His hair had gotten pretty long, but he’d combed it back in a way he usually didn’t for everyday work, and it looked nice, showing off his eyes and the shape of his face, making him look just different enough that it was noticeable. 

Gerard was so distracted by it, struck by the urge to reach for a pencil, that he didn’t even notice that Frank had said something, partially drowned out by the ringing in his ears. It was only when Frank waved at him that he startled. “Sorry, what?” 

“I said you look like shit,” Frank said, raising his eyebrows at Gerard. 

“Hey,” Gerard said lightly, looking down at his outfit and pointedly ignoring what Frank actually meant. 

“No, that’s not —” And before Gerard could say anything or even react in any way other than letting his mouth hang open like a dumbass, Frank pressed the back of his hand to Gerard’s forehead, like somebody’s mom. “Jesus, you’re burning up.” 

For a few brief seconds, Gerard shuffled through responses, a little stunned by the touch, which was gentle and cool and not at all what he expected. He ended up trying to say “I’m fine,” “It’s nothing,” and “I’m not sick,” at the same time, which resulted in a wholly unintelligible string of sounds and didn’t help his case at all. 

Frank stared at him. “Uh huh,” he deadpanned, and rolled his eyes. “Look. It’s just a fucking presentation. You have it written down, yeah? Let me do it.” 

“No way,” Gerard shook their head, taking a step back. He staggered a little bit when he did and tried to catch himself before Frank noticed, but it didn’t really work. 

“ _Dude_ , come on. I know sick, okay? I was sick, like, every goddamn month when I was a kid. And you are _really_ fucking sick.” 

“Frank, it doesn’t matter, I just, it has to be me, okay?” Gerard set his jaw and folded his arms across his chest and did his best to look intimidating, or at the very least pissed-off in a bitchy way, which was more or less his specialty. 

There were a few moments where they glared at each other until finally, thank God, Frank raised an eyebrow and gestured ahead of himself with a sweeping, sarcastic movement. 

This was new, this way they talked to each other, or more accurately, argued. Before they’d started working on the Harvest Festival, Frank had never been anything but perfectly amicable, if not the most fun guy in the world, to Gerard. But now it was like everything Gerard brought up, Frank had a comment, a question, a weak point to pick at until Gerard threw up his hands in frustration and retreated into his office to make whatever they’d been talking about completely fucking watertight. 

And it was annoying, because Gerard actually kind of liked Frank when they weren’t arguing over the best source of electrics or the reasoning behind separating the wool-spinning and the knitting competitions. He seemed like a decent guy, he got along with everyone else like a fucking house on fire, but it felt like he delighted in making extra work for Gerard sometimes. So whenever they went out to the bar, Gerard would sip his soda and talk to everyone else and maybe, if he was feeling Kate Bush-y and dramatic enough, take a few minutes to pick at the label on his bottle and wonder why his life couldn’t get it the fuck together. 

Because admittedly, Frank was good-looking. But he obviously had some kind of issue with Gerard. And to be honest, that only made Gerard even more pissed off. _I could have liked you, asshole,_ he thought as they walked inside, watching Frank keep pace beside him, smiling and nodding whenever they passed through the throng of people. 

When they rounded the corner, they took it a little tight, and Gerard tipped too far to one side and almost lost control until Frank grabbed his elbow and pulled him upright. “Dude,” he said, and this time, when Gerard looked at his face, there was definitely concern overtaking any exasperation that might still be present. “Are you _sure_ you’re okay.” His flat, skeptical tone told Gerard he’d already come to his own conclusion about that, but he was asking anyway. Giving Gerard an out if he wanted one. “Seriously, I can go in there and make up some shit about the budget having an emergency.” 

_Well,_ Gerard considered, _maybe asshole was a little mean. Asshat. Assclown. Pain in the neck. Who was stronger than he looked. Whatever._ It was sweet that he thought that the issue might just be that Gerard was embarrassed to break a commitment, but really, it was so much more than that. “I’m okay, honest,” he said firmly, and though he looked incredulous, Frank kept walking. 

This place was seriously like a maze, as if they were trying to ward off anyone who wasn’t born knowing the layout. By the time they reached the meeting room and stood on either side of the hallway, facing each other, waiting for the event to start, Gerard was sweating bullets. He switched his papers to his other hand, reached inside his pocket for the cold medicine and turned his back to Frank, but the bright orange bottle caught Frank’s eye, and before Gerard could blink it was snatched out of his hands. “ _Gerard_ ,” Frank hissed, “are you fucking crazy? Like, tell me now so I know for the future.” 

“No! I just actually give a shit about this, all right? So sue me.” He knew that in this situation, Frank was actually in the right, but it didn’t change the fact that he was frustrated and tired of fighting him and feeling like crap. “It’s just like…” They swallowed hard around the bitter taste in their mouth. “When you actually stay in one place. You get to know people, and they get to know you, and there are, there are expectations, you know? There’s a right way to do this kind of thing.” Like he was going to retort, Frank opened his mouth, but Gerard barrelled on anyway. “And anyway, I’m the one in charge, I’m the one who came up with this idea, it actually makes a fuckin’ difference to me if it happens.” 

For a moment, Frank just stared at him, while Gerard caught his breath, his righteous anger fading as quickly as it came. Then he said, shrugging, “I don’t know why you think it doesn’t matter to me.” 

“Because you don’t live here,” Gerard said. “You’re gonna — I mean, you’ll just be gone in a few months. Half the time I don’t even think you want the Harvest Festival to happen, like, maybe you just wanna get it over with and get outta here.” He was saying way too much, but he couldn’t shut himself up either. Looking Frank in the face felt uncomfortable, too close, so he looked a little to the left of him instead. Frank was still holding the bottle of cold medicine in his hand. 

“Why would you think that?” Frank asked. He was quiet. “Like, I’m seriously asking.” 

“C’mon, you shoot down, like, every idea we have.” Gerard sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. His stomach flipped over nervously — why the fuck was he nervous? — but he looked at Frank’s face, now, even though it made him feel hot in the face. (Hotter than he already felt.) 

Frank drew his brows together and shook his head, opened his mouth, but right before he could actually say anything, the president of the country club poked her head out. “Mr. Way? We’re ready for you whenever. And — oh, I’m sorry, I don’t know your friend here.” 

“Thanks, Linda, thank you,” Gerard said, smiling, and hoped it didn’t look as strung-out as he felt. 

“Frank Iero,” Frank introduced himself, falling into step between Gerard and Linda. “I’m one of the auditors from the state government.” 

“Oh, that’s great,” Linda said as they wove their way in between couples dressed in Ralph Lauren and drinking sparkling wine. “Such a shame about the budget. But it’s good to know that we have people like Mr. Way and Mr. Schechter over at the Parks Department trying to fix things. Who would’ve thought, huh?” 

“You know, now that I’ve known G— Mr. Way for a while,” Frank said, “I’m not actually surprised at all. Never met anyone who thinks like he does.” 

“That’s good to hear,” Linda beamed. “I’m hoping to get some of the folks here on board tonight.” 

Gerard blinked in confusion, but didn’t have much time to consider why Frank had suddenly done a 180 into complimenting him, because they had arrived at the front of the room. As Linda stepped forward, he tried to catch Frank’s eye, but all of a sudden, Frank had apparently become very interested in the terrible fresco of chubby Cupids on the ceiling. 

“...so everyone, please lend him your ears, and consider taking action tonight to help our wonderful city!” Linda applauded, leading the crowd to do the same, then stepped aside and nodded to Gerard. 

Taking a deep breath and trying to clear the Frank-shaped fog in their brain, Gerard placed their speech on the podium. He glanced down at the words he knew practically by heart now, adjusted his tie, looked out at the crowd with a smile. The lights seemed to pulse. There was a rush in his ears... 

And then he was stepping away, or more accurately, leaning away, with more rushing sounds, Frank coming up behind him, a hand on his elbow. Dimly, he was aware of some clapping from the audience, and Frank shuffling to stand behind the podium. 

“I’m sorry,” he could barely hear Frank say, “Mr. Way’s got another engagement tonight. Any questions or sponsorship offers can be directed to the Parks department office tomorrow.” He rattled off the phone number and Gabe’s email flawlessly. “We’ll look forward to hearing from you then. Thank you so much.” He shook hands with Linda and said something to her, leaning in close. Through the blackness at the edge of his vision, Gerard could see her nod and reply. 

The extreme brightness of the lights faded and seemed to burn a little less as Frank steered Gerard out of the room and through the hallways. Mechanically, Gerard followed, his mind moving too slow for him to protest. “I have no idea what just happened,” he said. It came out sounding slow and choppy to him. 

“I mean, you gave the speech,” Frank said. “You did it perfectly.” 

“I _did_? Really?” 

“Yeah. Honestly, it was kinda freaky. Like, you started talking and everything, and it was just how you’d practiced it, but it was like, I looked in your eyes and there was nobody home, I could tell. And then you kinda started leaning right as you were finishing up, and I was like, oh shit, he’s going over. You didn’t, though.” 

“Yeah. Thank you. I mean, for not letting me pass out or say something really weird into the microphone.” 

Frank bit back a laugh. “No problem.” 

“Actually.” Gerard frowned as he walked through the door that Frank had opened into the cool night air. It was a lot darker than it had been when they’d entered the building. “Where are we going?” 

“I’m gonna drive you home, and you’re gonna go to bed,” Frank said. 

“What about my car?” 

“You can leave it here overnight. I asked Linda. And like, no offense, but I do not trust you to drive yourself home right now, or even to like, go to your house. I kinda get the feeling that if I let you go you would drive right back to the office and start taking calls.” 

He would have, actually, because he would want to hear from these people while it was still fresh in their minds, but he wasn’t going to give Frank the satisfaction of being right. Gerard wasn’t mad at him anymore, not really, but keeping that to themself was out of principle alone. 

Frank, it turns out, owned a little dark green coupe, with a considerable amount of papers and luggage shoved in the back. “Sorry about the mess,” he said as Gerard gingerly got into the passenger side. “I’m living in the fucking Super 8, I don’t really have anywhere to keep shit except here.” 

“Why wouldn’t you just rent? There’s plenty of places.” 

“I don’t know.” Frank laughed a little, hooking his arm behind Gerard’s seat as he backed out of the space. “That feels, like, way more permanent than any other job I’ve done so far.” 

“I mean, you’ve been here kind of a long time. What, are you one of those guys that’s like, afraid of commitment or some shit?” 

Frank snorted. “Um, no. Definitely not. It’s just — these jobs, you know, they’re so short, and then we just have to leave as soon as they’re done. There’s not really a point in getting a life set up, because you’ll just have to leave it behind in a few months anyway.” 

“I don’t know, I mean, that kinda sounds like a fear of commitment to me.” 

“I’m _not_ , I —” Frank cut himself off and rolled his eyes, but didn’t let the amused expression slip from his face. “You know what, nevermind.” 

While Frank was looking out the back windshield, Gerard let themself look at Frank, just for a second. He was all dark edges in the orange glow of the streetlamps that lit the parking lot, tattoos like spilled ink on his skin. 

They made it out of the parking lot and onto the winding road that led down to the country club, weaving between golf courses and developments. The night was quiet, and this far from the center of town, there were stars you could actually see outside the window, in the velvet-dark sky, blurred by the speed of the car. Gerard let his eyes go unfocused until they became streams of light. 

“By the way,” Frank said, quietly enough that Gerard barely heard him over the rumbling of the car over the road, “It’s not because I don’t like your ideas. It’s because challenging them, like, even the tiniest fucking bit, makes you ten times more determined to make them work.” 

Gerard drew his eyebrows together and turned back to Frank. 

“I’m just saying,” he continued, flipping on his turn signal as they paused at a red light. “Sometimes it’s good to have someone to push you a little. God fuckin’ knows you push back.” 

“Brian pushes me,” Gerard said. 

“Brian’s your boss. And besides, he knows what’s good for him, which means he pretty much lets you do what you want.” The light went green and they merged onto the road back towards town. “I don’t think he’s, like, wrong for that. You just sometimes gotta argue your point to see if it has any weak spots, you know? Like, I don’t know, feeling your arm after you fall on it to find out if it’s bruised.” 

Gerard considered that, thought how Frank’s needling at him had actually spurred him into fixing what needed to be fixed, or finding snags that would have been really annoying to deal with later. “Wow. I… That makes sense, actually, yeah.” 

“Not sure how much trust I have in your opinion right now, but thanks,” Frank said amusedly. “Hey, where do you live, anyway? I haven’t been to your house. I mean, if you have one, I’m assuming you don’t actually live at City Hall.” 

It wasn’t too hard for Gerard to direct Frank to their place; even though he’d only been in Belleville for a few months, he knew his way around pretty well. They pulled up outside, and when the engine died, it was suddenly so quiet, the crickets and the rattling of the cicadas jarringly loud in comparison. “You okay?” Frank asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“I’m fine, Frank, really.” 

“I mean, you said that to me like, ten million times inside, then almost keeled over, so you can’t really blame me for asking again.” He was smiling, though, and reached over Gerard to open the door. “Here you go. It sticks sometimes.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” 

“Thank me by not coming into work tomorrow, okay? I don’t wanna get sick again. It was bad enough the first time.” 

“You’re killing me,” Gerard said, getting out into the humid air. The pavement was still warm, he could feel it a little bit through his shoes, and he felt a weird urge to take them off and walk barefoot on the street. He wondered if Frank would do it too — if he would stay if Gerard asked. That thought was a little bit of a surprise, and he swallowed hard, trying to force it back down. 

“That’s not an answer, motherfucker,” Frank said. 

“Fine. But _only_ because I can’t have any more shortstaffed days.” 

“Yes.” Frank grinned and honked the horn in victory, blaring off the sides of the houses for a brief millisecond. “I win this one.” Gerard snorted in disbelief and started to reply, but Frank cut him off. “Kidding! Kidding. You also win this one, because someone finally forced you to take a fuckin’ break. I’ll see you the day after next, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard said, and with that, Frank rolled up the window and peeled out of the driveway. His broad smile flashed at Gerard from the driver’s seat, what felt like all the way down the street until all that could be seen in the darkness were the red taillights. 

Looking back, the whole night should have been a clue, like a puzzle that took way too long to put together, but it wasn’t until Gerard woke up the next morning, sick as a dog and smiling every time he thought about the previous night, that he knew he was really fucked. 

* * *

**The day of the Harvest Festival**

* * *

The sun was setting, and Gerard was finally, finally sitting down. 

They’d been on their feet what felt like all day. Scratch that, actually more than all day, since as far as he was concerned, “day” didn’t count until the sun came up. Rushing through permits, setting up tents, speaking at the opening, briefly being pulled in as a judge for the squashes and gourds competition (he’d never seen people as worked up over gourds before in his life), and shoveling something fried down his throat every few hours on his way from one end of the festival grounds to the other had taken its toll. Now, even the sight of a single chair was enough to make him sigh with happiness. 

Technically, he wasn’t on a break; Hayley had asked him to hold down the face-painting stand while her girlfriend was playing so she could watch side-stage. But most of the kids were either on their way home, eating dinner with their parents, or in line for rides at this point, so business wasn’t exactly booming, and it was as much peace and quiet as he’d managed to get all day. It was even in view of the stage, which was nice, because Gerard had missed most of the performances. There was a girl on now, standing in front of the mic with an acoustic guitar, her blonde hair wound up in two buns, like Princess Leia but on top of her head instead of on the sides. A blur of teal was visible in the wings if Gerard squinted, so this must be Hayley’s girlfriend. The music was pretty, and she had a nice voice, and the sunlight was warm, and Gerard felt like it was flowing through his veins, healing his aching feet. He tilted his head back and folded his hands on his stomach. 

“Hey, are you open?” 

In a moment of panic left over from his days working retail, Gerard shot upright, only to see Frank standing in front of him. “God, I thought you were a fuckin’ customer,” he said. 

“Hey, I am! There’s no age limit for this shit.” He gestured to the palettes on the table with one hand; the other one stayed out at his side, and as Gerard followed it, he realized why. There were two leashes looped around his hands, and two dogs at the ends of them; one medium-sized, dark brown except for markings on its face and belly, with short hair, and the other one a shaggy little puppy with floppy ears and clumsy paws, who was trying in vain to bite its own tail. 

“Oh my God,” Gerard said, because he, much like every other human on the face of the earth, was totally powerless in the face of a puppy. 

“These are my girls,” Frank smiled. “The big one is Lois, and then her little sister is Soup.” 

“ _Soup,_ ” Gerard said, although it came out a squeak. 

“You can say hi if you want, they love people.” 

Careful not to move too fast, Gerard leaned down and held the back of their hand out to the dogs. Lois sniffed it politely and then bumped into his palm with her snout, while Soup attempted to fit his whole hand in her mouth, tiny little puppy teeth pricking but not really hurting. 

“Hey! People are friends, not food, we fuckin’ talked about this,” Frank said, gently grabbing her jaw until she released Gerard’s hand. He kept petting her anyway, her skin warm in that way that only puppies really were. 

Frank crouched down and tied the leashes carefully over the chair, even though there didn’t seem to be much of a need; they both laid down pretty happily at his feet. Gerard had barely seen him all day, just a quick greeting to him and Ray when they’d shown up. They’d both signed up to volunteer in various capacities, but they’d taken the night off to actually be able to enjoy their time, and Gerard was glad. Ever since their talk on the night Gerard got sick, he and Frank had started to turn their arguments more into discussions, and Gerard had started looking for input from the rest of the team, too. They’d been a little bit hesitant at first, but with every idea that they built together, they contributed more and more until it was truly a collaborative process. Gerard had liked it fine when he was coming up with the ideas himself, but it was ten times better to try and make a difference when everyone else was working alongside him more directly instead. 

Earlier, Frank had been wearing a volunteer shirt, same as Gerard, but at some point he’d gotten a red flannel to wear over it. He’d rolled the sleeves up so his tattoos peeked out, and his worn black jeans were a little dusty from walking around the site all day, as were his Docs. To put it bluntly, he looked good, and Gerard noticed. 

Frank wriggled in his seat until he was facing Gerard. “So are you gonna do your job or what? Paint my face, dude.” 

“What do you want?” Gerard laughed. “Butterfly? Fairy princess? Dragon?” 

“Hey, I bet your fairy princess would be fuckin’ awesome.” Frank perused the example sheet for a second, then made a face. “Can you just make me a skeleton?” 

“Sure,” Gerard said. “Easy. Do you want, like, classic skeleton, or realistic?” 

“Classic’s probably easier, right?” 

“Uh-huh,” Gerard said. They tilted their head to the side and considered Frank’s face. “Okay. Hold still.” The white crayon on the table was a little sad, all covered in marks from other colors, so he ripped open the new pack that was sitting in a bag at the foot of the table and started to color Frank’s face white. “Are you, like, a big Halloween fan?” 

“Yeah, it’s actually my birthday,” Frank said, and smiled hard enough that it almost made the crayon skid on his face. 

“No shit.” Gerard raised his eyebrows. “Coming up.” 

“I know, I know,” Frank said, his eyelashes fluttering prettily on his cheeks as he closed his eyelids so Gerard could paint them black. “Older, wiser, blah blah blah.” 

“Got any plans for it?” 

He shrugged. “Hand out candy. Get stoned once I’m done. Watch some horror movies. Fall asleep to the Misfits or something.” 

“You sleep to the fuckin’ Misfits? Are you a psychopath?” 

“No! I don’t know, it’s comforting. I listened to them a lot growing up.” Frank went still at the next drag of the crayon, drawing on cheekbones. “You like them?” 

“I grew up a metalhead in Jersey, Frankie, of course I like the Misfits.” Gerard trapped his tongue between his teeth. “Stay still.” 

Under his touch, Frank didn’t move, and Gerard was suddenly aware of how warm he was to the touch. He was facing into the sun, and it lit up his eyes like amber, like honey. Gerard caught his breath for a second and tried to hide it as he blended down the black lines into the illusion of a jawbone. “Last part,” he said quietly, and put the black crayon against Frank’s lips to draw on the teeth. Frank was clearly biting his lip, and Gerard looked up at him. “Don’t smile, you’ll ruin it.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Frank said. He looked up at the sky for a second, trying to get it under control, managing to wrestle his mouth back into a neutral expression. 

“Thanks,” Gerard said. Too late, he felt a flush rise to his cheeks. _Dumbass, he was smiling because of you, you should have enjoyed it._

In a few seconds, it was done, and Gerard wordlessly held up the pink plastic mirror to reflect Frank’s face. They’d gone for a traditional look, but still made it a little extra creepy, like the skeleton was cracking a little. 

“ _Dude_ ,” Frank said, hovering his hands a few inches from his skin, like he wanted to touch it but knew better. “This is fuckin’ _cool_ , holy shit. I really look like a skeleton. But like, I’m not gonna scare away any kids or anything.” 

“Good,” Gerard grinned. 

Onstage, Hayley’s girlfriend finished her song with a final finger-picked chord. “Thank you guys so much for listening,” she said, looking out at the crowd with a smile on her face. “I’m Taylor, in case you didn’t know. And for the next song, I wanted to invite my girlfriend to the stage, ‘cause she’s got a great voice, and I wrote this song for her. We’ve been practicing it a lot, so… I hope y’all like it.” 

With a smile visible even from the back of the stage area where Gerard and Frank were sitting, Hayley bounded onstage and kissed Taylor on the cheek as she started playing again. “That’s sweet,” Frank said. “God, all the people in your department are so great.” 

“I know,” Gerard said earnestly. “I really got lucky.” 

“I don’t know about lucky.” Frank tilted his head to the side. “I think you attract the kind of person you are, you know?” 

“Oh.” Gerard focused on cleaning up the table so he had an excuse to not meet Frank’s eyes and hide his face, which he was pretty sure was going red. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” Stretching his legs out, Frank yawned. “Hey, I’m starving. Do you wanna grab some food once they’re done playing?” 

“Okay,” Gerard said warily, “but we gotta go somewhere that’s serving something that didn’t come out of a deep fryer. I think if I eat any more grease today, my hair will, like, spontaneously convert back to when I was in art school and only showered once a week.” 

“Oof.” Frank winced. “That sounds rough. Nah, I was thinking Mexican, maybe? I’m vegetarian, so there aren’t a ton of options for me here.” 

“A vegetable, like, just, any kind of vegetable, sounds amazing.” 

“What, the deep-fried beans or whatever don’t appeal to you anymore?” 

Gerard shuddered. “Let’s just eat before I lose my fuckin’ appetite.” 

The fairgrounds were pretty at sunset, and it was a nice walk to the other side, where the food was set up. It was so relieving to be able to just _talk_ to each other, not about permits or problems with tent rentals or registration, just about life. By the time they made it back to the stage, burritos in hand, Pete’s band was setting up, and the sun was almost down, replaced by the blinking lights of the rides and the glow of fluorescents. 

By the side of the stage, beside a guy who was shirtless and covered in tattoos, Gerard could the glint of light off of Mikey’s glasses, and turned to Frank. “Hey, I gotta go say hi to Mikey. Can you save my seat?” 

With a slow grin, Frank swung his feet up to rest on the chair Gerard had vacated. “You’re good,” he nodded, then took a bite of his food. Soup sniffed at the seat of the chair interestedly, but evidently decided that the ground was more comfortable, because Gerard saw her turn in circles twice and settle down underneath the chair out of the corner of his eye as he walked away. 

Flashing his badge at the steps to the stage felt a little bit ridiculous, but it worked. Gerard hurried back and tapped Mikey on the shoulder. They hadn’t seen each other since early this morning, when they’d all gathered in the tent as the sun was rising, clutching coffees, and Gerard had sent Mikey off to oversee the bands as they arrived and took care of their gear. “Hey,” he said. 

Mikey looked tired, but he smiled, crooked and wide, showing his teeth, the way Gerard had always known him to smile when he was really happy. “Hey, Gee,” he said. “Are you gonna watch Pete’s band play?” 

“Yeah, me and Frank are out there watching,” Gerard replied. He went to gesture to their spot in the crowd, but realized he was still holding his burrito. “Oh, well, we got dinner.” 

“Nice,” Mikey replied. 

There was a note of something in his voice, like he was holding back a laugh or some kind of amused self-satisfaction, but Gerard chose to steadfastly ignore it. “I just wanted to say, thank you for helping me,” he said. “You did a really great job with all of this.” 

Mikey hitched his shoulder up in a shrug. “It’s fun. I like this stuff.” 

“You could do it for real,” Gerard said, and knew it was true. As much as they liked having Mikey around at the Parks Department, this was clearly what he liked doing; coordinating events for bands was a bigger challenge and, Gerard had to admit, a lot more fun than scheduling the weekly bingo night. 

“You think?” Mikey asked, smiling even wider. 

“Yeah,” Gerard nodded. “Hey, tell Pete I said good luck, okay?” 

“Wait, hold on, before you go.” Mikey caught him by the arm as he went to go back down the stairs. “You did a great job too.” 

“Thanks, Mikes.” 

“I don’t just mean, like, the planning, you always do good at that. I mean — I dunno. Making this a project for everyone. Being a little easier on yourself.” 

Gerard stared at Mikey for a second, then swallowed down all of the emotion that had sprung up in his throat at that. “Thank you,” he mumbled. It was always weird when Mikey talked like that; not in a bad way, but it sometimes seemed like he knew Gerard more like an older brother than a younger one. 

“‘Course. Tell Frank I said hey.” This time, the smirk and the quirk of his eyebrow were unignorable. 

“Mikey, _don’t_ ,” Gerard warned. 

“I’m not! I’m not,” he promised, but his snickering rang out until Gerard closed the curtains behind himself on his way back to his seat. 

By the time he made it, slipping quietly through the crowd and sitting down as Frank put his feet down wordlessly and sat up straight, the band was fully set up and the lights were glaring down on them. Instead of the lead singer, a short, blonde guy with a hat, speaking, Pete leaned into the microphone. “Hey, we’re Fall Out Boy,” he said. “Big shout out to my friend Mikeyway for getting us this gig. Let’s get started!” 

They launched into a quick song full of power chords and a driving drumbeat, and followed it with two more. Every so often, Gerard glanced over to Frank just to see his face, because he was smiling so big it almost hurt to look at, but in a good way, in a way that Gerard could feel in his chest, like the space inside him was too big to be constrained by his ribcage. 

It was only after the first few songs that Gerard checked their watch and swore. “What’s wrong?” Frank asked, a little above a normal speaking voice to be heard over the applause. 

“Fireworks are about to start. I gotta be there to, like, give a beginning speech.” 

“Oh, okay, well, let’s go then,” Frank said, gathering up the leashes and winding them around his wrists. 

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Gerard said immediately. “It’s not, like, a big—” 

“I’m not missing fireworks,” Frank said. “Come on.” 

Thankfully, Gerard didn’t have to do much other than go up to the podium by the entrance and the corn maze, give a short “thanks for coming, have fun” speech, and tell everyone to enjoy the fireworks, and it felt kind of like a waste of time, to have Frank come with him, but that didn’t mean it was any less nice to see him in the crowd. When he was done, Frank high-fived him and cheered a little bit. “When do the fireworks, like, actually go off?” he asked. 

“Any minute now.” 

“Cool. Did you wanna hold Soup?” Frank held out her leash. “Just because, I don’t know, it seems like you guys get along.” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Gerard answered, reaching out to take it. 

Then three things happened in quick succession. 

A firework shot up into the air with a whistling sound, then exploded, to the _oohs_ and _aahs_ of the audience. 

Soup jolted, then ran in the direction of the darkest, safest place she could see — the entrance of the corn maze, ripping her leash out of Frank’s hand. 

And Lois followed her a second later, going after her baby sister, yanking her own leash off of Frank’s other wrist. 

The light from the firework faded, covering everything in darkness, and it was good that people were chatting as they waited for the next one to go off, because Frank said, “ _Fuck_ ,” loudly enough to have attracted a few disapproving looks from parents in any other situation. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“Oh, God,” Gerard said, running a hand through their hair anxiously. “Let’s — I mean, we gotta go find them.” 

“You don’t have to help,” Frank started to say. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Those are your dogs, dude, we’re gonna find them. They can’t have gotten too far,” Gerard resolved. 

“I hope you’re right,” Frank said, and they walked over to the entrance. “Um, I’ll go right, you go left?” 

“Works for me,” Gerard agreed, and they split up (which was the stupid thing you never do in horror movies, but considering how many times Gerard had checked this maze’s progress himself, he’d be fine with staking his life on its lack of monsters). 

Calling Soup’s name wasn’t a very effective strategy, as it turned out, but what _did_ work was using his flashlight to follow the trail that her leash had left in the dirt as it dragged behind her, and the (tiny, adorable) paw prints that were beside it. She may have had short legs, but she was evidently pretty fast, because Gerard was almost at the middle of the maze before he caught sight of her tail around a corner. A wave of relief swept over him, and when he whistled, she turned and came happily bounding into his arms. 

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed, picking her up and briefly burying his face in her fur. “Your dad would have murdered me. And honestly,” he said to her, “I would have deserved it.” 

It was faster to go out through another branch of the maze, so Gerard followed the arm he’d been walking along the short distance left to the big area in the center. The path widened into a clearing, and before he even saw Frank, he heard him say, “Jesus Christ, okay, thank God, you found her.” 

“Yeah,” Gerard said, and moved Soup a little to the side so he could see Frank. His face looked drawn and worried, but was already relaxing a little bit, and Lois was standing at his feet, sniffing the ground. “Neither of them seem really scared now.” 

“No, now they’re fine.” Frank rubbed his hand over his face and laughed a little. “I guess it just spooked them at first.” 

“I’m glad they were so easy to find. That would have been, like, the shittiest ending to this day possible.” 

“Especially when everything else went so well,” Frank agreed. 

Another firework burst overhead, this one purple. They both tightened their grip on the leashes and tensed, but it didn’t seem to make a difference to either of the dogs. “There’s a really great view here,” Gerard said, staring as the sparkles fizzled downwards and went out. 

Frank made a soft noise of agreement, and they both stood there watching for a second, until Gerard cleared his throat, unable to keep himself from asking. “So are you surprised? I mean, that everything went well?” 

“What?” Frank snorted. “Why would you ask that?” 

"If you can pull it off, you said when we first started," Gerard said. 

Frank rolled his eyes. "It's not really even a fucking question with you, is it? I knew as soon as you put away that posterboard on the very first morning that this thing was gonna happen.” He shifted his weight and his arm brushed against Gerard’s. When had they gotten that close? 

“Really?” 

“Do you know,” Frank said, “how much time I spend with people who just don’t give a shit?” He laughed and shook his head, toeing up the soft-packed earth beneath their feet. “Like, most of governments we visit… the people straight up don’t fucking care. We have to, like, force them to do anything.” By his right leg, Lois laid down on the ground, her head resting on her paw, totally calm now that Frank was back with her. “But then I came here, and holy shit, dude.” He let out another dry laugh. “I couldn’t believe just how _different_ it was. If half the stuff you guys do had been here when I was a teenager? That would have been amazing.” 

In Gerard’s arms, Soup wriggled, and their turned her so she rested over their shoulder. “Frank, I don’t — it’s just something I have to do, you know?” He couldn’t explain it, why it was so different for him. It was like a light inside him, shining out of him, a beam from his chest that he knew how to follow, even when no one else could see it. 

Frank closed his eyes and smiled, some new kind of smile, soft in a way that made Gerard’s stomach leap. “You really don’t have to, though, and that’s what makes the fact that you do it so fucking... important.” 

Another firework went off in the distance, and Frank’s face was momentarily bathed in cherry-bomb red, the pinpricks sparkling in miniature in his eyes. Neither of the dogs jumped this time, Soup tucked carefully into Gerard’s arms and Lois still content on the ground. Frank stepped forward, close enough now that Gerard could smell the fire smoke clinging to his flannel like a second skin. “I wanna kiss you,” Frank said. 

A shower of sparks fizzed outwards from the center explosion of the firework, golden white and bright like they were burning holes in the sky, lighting Frank up again. He was still smiling, looking directly at Gerard, right into his eyes, and it was almost too much, the way it seemed to touch a tender and soft part inside Gerard, like he’d been opened up like a window from the inside out. “Yeah,” he breathed, “yeah,” and then Frank did, standing up and pulling him down a little by the sides of his face until their lips brushed and connected firmly. In his arms, Gerard shifted Soup so he could hold her one-handed, and rested his hand on Frank’s shoulder, and they stayed like that for a while, losing count of the blasts going off. 

A breeze blew by and carried the smell of the fireworks, gunpowder, with it, and it broke their reverie. Gerard was dizzy with the kissing when they let go of each other, his arm crying out from holding Soup for so long, and when he bent to set her down he had to try not to stagger. Frank had been grinning all through their kisses, as soon as their lips met, so much so that it kind of was hard to get to the actual kissing, and he still was when Gerard got back up. “You are such a fucking novelty,” he said with something like wonder in his voice. “How often do you get to kiss a hot guy who’s holding a puppy? That’s like, tailored to me specifically. In life.” 

Gerard touched his lips and noticed that he was smiling, too, even though he hadn’t done it consciously. “I don’t know. How long has it been since you had your dogs with you? I mean, I’m thinking they aren’t letting them live with you at the Super 8.” 

“Oh,” Frank said, and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m actually — I’m not living in the Super 8 anymore. Jesus, I can’t believe I forgot to say that.” 

The speed at which Gerard’s heart leapt into his throat was frankly alarming. “No shit,” he managed to get out, strangled. 

“Yeah, um, I started renting a place at the beginning of October,” Frank said. “Turns out that I actually don’t mind sticking around when there’s something worth… sticking around for.” 

“God, good, we need a new budget manager _so_ fucking badly —” 

“Gerard,” Frank interrupted. “I wasn’t talking about the city government.” He was holding back laughter, but it was fond, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. 

“What do you — oh,” Gerard said, and lost his train of thought entirely. 

Frank just grinned at him, reached out and took his hand. “How are you so smart and you still didn’t get that?” 

“Smart doesn’t mean I’m not a fuckin’ dumbass sometimes, I guess,” Gerard mumbled out of the side of their mouth. Every inch of his palm was tingling. He squeezed his hand a little, and felt Frank squeeze back. 

“How long do you think we can stay in here before someone comes looking for you?” Frank asked, taking his eyes off Gerard to glance up at the fireworks again. 

“Probably at least ‘till the end of the display,” Gerard said hopefully. 

“Then let’s enjoy it. I gotta say, I’ve never had a first date end with literal fireworks before.” 

“Me neither.” 

“I guess this makes this kind of the best one, then,” Frank said. 

Gerard turned his head towards Frank to say something, but then another blast lit up the sky, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking advantage of it to lean in and kiss him again. “Not just because of the fireworks,” he said when they broke apart. 

He didn’t need the bright white light that was raining down in sparks to be able to tell that Frank was smiling at that.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much once again to liz for organizing this event, and to you for reading!! if you enjoyed it, please take a second to leave comments or kudos as they really do make my day. <33 also, make sure to check out the other wonderful works in this collection!
> 
> if you wanna chat, i’m always happy to — i’m on tumblr [@bringmoreknives](https://bringmoreknives.tumblr.com) and twitter [@heavenhelpsus](https://twitter.com/heavenhelpsus)!  
> 


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